What If Sauron was never destroyed?
by Elhina
Summary: Baiscally, it's about if Sauron survived the last alliance..... and the whole fellowship is different! Please, read and review! Thanks
1. The Introduction

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Tolkien or Lord of the Rings related. Nothing. I do however; own the plot of this story. I came up with it all by myself and ask others not to copy it or put it on another site with out my permission. But, again, I do not own any Tolkien. This Disclaimer is extended to cover ALL chapters in this story, every last one!  
  
What if Sauron Was Never Destroyed?  
  
  
  
  
  
Introduction  
  
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*Note from Author* Okay, this is really my first attempt at a serious fan fiction. I came up with it one day while I was eating breakfast at 5:30 in the morning and really wasn't that awake. But, since then it's gotten quite a bit better and I know it'll be a bit confusing at first. That's why I've added this introduction. It's just going to give a short history of the ring in this story and a short intro to some the characters. Don't worry, the whole fellowship will show up eventually. If you don't want to read it, you don't have to, but I'll warn you that it may be a bit confusing for a few chapters. Okay, that's all. Enjoy!  
  
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At the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, Sauron the Dark Lord killed Elendil. Isildur, Elendil's son, then took up his father's sword and attempted to wound the Dark Lord. Isildur managed to cut a single finger from the Dark lord's hand. Sauron hardly even noticed. He struck Isildur and then turned his attention to his other foes. Isildur was injured, but not enough to stop him from moving. But he looked down at the Dark Lord's finger he had cut off, onto which still clung a golden band, Sauron's One Ring. (For anyone who has only seen the movie, read the note starred at the bottom of this.) Isildur knowing what it was, fled from the scene, the ring now clutched in his hand.  
  
Isildur then took the ring away from the battlefield and hid in a nearby wood. Isildur witnessed from there the destruction of the Last Alliance and then took off, with the few other remaining survivors, in any direction away from the Dark Lord. Soon he found a few people who he had knew and they began to travel north. One day, Isildur and two others went out hunting leaving their temporary camp under the watch of a single young man.  
  
When returning to the camp, they found that the camp had been raided and the man guarding killed. Isildur went in search of the raiders, when he was shot and killed by a group of orcs.  
  
The raiders took the ring, un-knowingly and the ring eventually came into possession of a Stoor named Smeagol (Gollum as he is later known.)(How this came to happen will be explained later.). Smeagol used this ring to help his people by spying on the enemy. But eventually, his people began to suspect him of stealing and robbing. Smeagol was also about 150 years old, too old to be any member of their race. So they shunned him and his family disowned him.  
  
Smeagol then went to a race of people that were more of his size and stature than others, Hobbits or Half-lings. He offered his services as a spy to a family known as Baggins. Eventually, Smeagol entrusted a member of this family, Bilbo, with his secret about his ring. Bilbo was amazed at the ring and its power.  
  
A year later, when Smeagol became ill with a cold that caused his speech to become raspy and slurred, he handed the ring over to Bilbo. This was so that Bilbo could use it to spy, under the condition that Smeagol would be allowed to stay in the house without earning keep. Smeagol was sour to let his ring go, so Bilbo challenged him to a game of riddles. Whoever won, kept the ring. Bilbo was victorious. Smeagol soon became so ill he couldn't leave his bed. Bilbo would come to his room each day to try and make up for taking the poor creature's ring. In this way, Bilbo and Smeagol became the best of friends.  
  
Sixty years later, Gandalf (Mithrandir) urged Bilbo to give up his ring and pass it on to the new generation of spies. And so Bilbo passed on the ring to Frodo, his heir.  
  
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Now this story takes place 17 years after Frodo inherits the ring. The Dark Lord, Sauron, is ruler of the land and a shadow covers all. Everything is different. Great realms destroyed, great people killed or captured or hiding. But, some still resist. They fight will little communication between themselves and they lose ground to the enemy each day. But they persist and do not surrender to Sauron. And Mithrandir (Gandalf) has learned of Frodo's ring.  
  
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*In the movie Sauron just 'blows up' per say when The Ring is cut off. But in the book, the reason he dies is that Elendil delivered a fatal wound to him before he was struck down. This wound does not happen in my story (Like in the movie) and that is why Sauron survives. Any questions? Email me or write the question in a review. *  
  
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	2. Chpater 1 The Rider's news

Chapter I-The Rider's News  
  
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"Lord Boromir! Lord-" The errand rider called, riding into a temporary camp that had been set up for the Lord Boromir and his small army of soldiers. The rider could see the soldiers eyeing him angrily for disturbing their sleep. The soldiers had spent the majority of their last years fighting and were used to little sleep. But the last few days, they had had almost no sleep at all. And they weren't happy that a rider could come riding into camp, disturbing their sleep and get away with it. But they did nothing, they knew he carried news, or he wouldn't be yelling. Silently, some of the younger soldiers wondered whether or not the rider brought news of a victory, possibly one their side had won? But the older soldiers had long ago given up hope; most now believed this war would last forever.  
  
"The Lord sleeps," A man standing at the entrance to finely woven tent that had long since needed replacing. He was clad in the clothes of a northern ranger and the rider seemed to remember hearing that a ranger had been recruited to guard the Lord Boromir. He also remembered hearing, as a child, that rangers were not to be trusted.  
  
"My news is urgent, it comes from the Lord's brother himself. I must speak with his Lordship as soon as it may be," The rider persisted. This ranger would not stop him; he was going to deliver the Lord Faramir's message, even if that meant fighting his way through to the Lord Boromir.  
  
To the rider's surprise, the ranger backed down and allowed the rider to pass through the flap of the tent to the chamber within. The rider found that the Lord was indeed not asleep, that he stood pacing his quarters like a cooped up dog. Boromir turned to see the rider and motioned him to begin.  
  
"My Lord, I bring news from your brother, The Lord Faramir," The rider said quickly. As he began to speak again, Boromir signaled for him to pause, and called to the ranger outside the tent.  
  
"Lord Boromir, your brother insisted that this news be heard by your ears only," the rider said cautiously. It was not his place to talk back to the Lord, but he was sure he didn't want a un-trust worthy ranger hearing this message.  
  
"This ranger will be present. Ignore him and tell me my brother's message," Boromir replied sharply, settling down in a chair. The ranger remained standing but moved to a nearby folding table and began to leaf through a bunch of papers while straightening them.  
  
"The Lord Faramir has had news from the elves," The rider began slowly, still watching every move the ranger made. "They say that all those who value their alliances with the elves should gather towards a place called The Fortress of Bag End. A spy reported that that was to be the Dark Lord's next target, though we no not why. The inhabients are small and ruthless at times, but do not pose a great threat to the Dark Lord. I have a map to the place," the rider cut off, digging into his pockets for the map he was entrusted to. He soon produced it and handed it to Boromir. "It is believed that the orcs are assembling there in numbers un-countable. Mithrandir himself has come forth asking the elves and all others to aid in this battle so that the half-lings will not fall."  
  
"Mithrandir? He came to plead for help? If that indeed is the case, who can refuse the council of Mithrandir?" Boromir said quietly. The rider had the feeling that Boromir wasn't aiming this comment towards him, but more towards the ranger still puttering about near the table.  
  
"But another council is warning us against going to battle," the rider said quickly, turning away from the ranger. His message was important and he didn't need any distractions, lest he forget something. "Saruman the White has counseled us to remain where we are, for either the half-lings fall alone or we all fall fighting beside them, and all hope is lost. But a third council was also given, that of the Lord Elrond,"  
  
"The Lord Elrond? Has he come out of his secret lair to help protect these half-lings you speak of? For if he does, these half-lings are of grave importance," the ranger suddenly remarked. He had stopped puttering and was standing closer now than he was but a moment before.  
  
"No, the Lord Elrond has not emerged from his safe-haven," the rider replied angrily. Why should he have to answer a question asked by a mere ranger that shouldn't be here in the first place? "But Elrond has ordered Mithrandir to take a certain half-ling to him at a certain date. He is offering his full protection to them. But, there isn't even rumor of why. The Lord Faramir has sent this letter with his council, but that is all I know," the rider was glad to be finished. He handed the letter to Boromir. The ranger was eyeing him strangely and he was out of breath and hoping that he had forgotten nothing on his long journey from the South. He was surprised to find Boromir's troops so far North; he suspected that the Lord and his troops were up here fighting a long battle. According to the map, it looked like they were only about a day's journey to the north of the land called the Shire.  
  
"Thank you. Go now and sleep before I send you back to my brother in the morning with what my plans are. I must think this over." Boromir sighed, acknowledging that he would have another night of no rest. The rider quietly slipped out, noticing that the ranger stayed.  
  
"My friend, you should not be so bold about having me near you. Soon, someone will suspect." The ranger said quietly to the Lord.  
  
"Ara-- Strider, you would never have heard that man from your position at the tent door. I am too tired to come up with an excuse for your being here. The rider will need to live with it."  
  
"You, Lord Boromir, are supposed to be protecting the true King of Gondor. You are supposed to be making sure no one finds out who I really am. You are supposed to be answering to me, doing as I tell you." Strider said, upset that Boromir wasn't sticking exactly to the plan that had worked for ages; the King of Gondor would rule behind one of the Lords of Gondor and that lord would protect his identity at all costs.  
  
"What do you believe I should do?"  
  
"I believe we should follow the council of Mithrandir and Elrond, They would not both lead us astray."  
  
"But the men are already weak and tired. They long to go south, back to their homes for a bit. If we do not turn back now, we will not be back in time for the winter to come!" Boromir looked to Strider and sighed, "I know you are right and we should go, but what help we our small numbers be? We have lost so many recently."  
  
"Yes, but every few will help the half-lings stand. We must help them, if both Mithrandir and Elrond are asking, these small people must be of a greater value than all others," Strider said quickly. His mind was made up. He would go to help the half-lings, whether Boromir and his troops came with him or not.  
  
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	3. Chapter 2 At The Fortress of Bag End

Chapter 2- At The Fortress of Bag End  
  
  
  
"Frodo, Frodo, where is that boy?" An old hobbit said annoyingly as he walked through the circular passages of his long time home and fortress.  
  
"He'sss gone to go and find Gandalf," a raspy, slurring voice replied from a room off to the side of the hall.  
  
"Oh dear, that cold you have seems to be getting worse, my old friend Smeagol. I think you should take some more rest," the old hobbit replied, turning towards the voice. He entered the room and was looking around.  
  
"We thinksss we've taken that council of yourssss before. We thinksss we're doing a pretty good job of ssstaying in bedsss, Mr. Bilbo Bagginssss," Smeagol replied. He was lying in his bed, as he'd been doing for quite a bit of time. It was because of this nasty little cold he'd developed, and he wasn't enjoying his rest at all. But at least he had his long time friend, Bilbo, to talk to. "Did yousss take caresss of oursss bussssinessss with Mr. Frodosss? Did you tell him the story?"  
  
"Ohh, yes. I did that ages ago. He said the story was a new bit of information and that he'd been wondering about how we got it ever since we gave it to him seventeen years ago. Though I think the little rat told Gandalf our secret. It's disappointing really. I thought we'd get away with keeping that ring secret forever. It was so handy at times.. " Bilbo said off-handedly.  
  
"Yesss, and The Precious and I wassss ssssso upssset when you took it from ussss in that ssstupid riddle game you made usss play."  
  
"Riddles. hmmmm. How about another game? Ehh? I'll bet you whatever I have in my pocket to whatever you have in yours?"  
  
"Ridiculousss. I have no pocketssss."  
  
"And I have nothing in mine today, so it's fair." Bilbo said with a smirk on his face. "My old friend, we've had so many good times together. We've beaten quite a few armies with secrets learned with that ring of ours. But that time is passed. We're too old now. Why, I'm turning one- hundred-and-twenty-eight next week. And you, you should have been dead long ago; you were old when I was born! My old friend, we're getting much too old to do much at all."  
  
"Well, I can still play a game of riddles. Shall we?" Smeagol said.  
  
"Of course, old friend."  
  
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"Gandalf! Gandalf!" Frodo called running about the corridors. He'd just been speaking to that annoying old Stoor, Gollum. He couldn't handle much more of that annoying little beast of a man. He may be a good friend to Bilbo and all, but he was no friend to Frodo. And he had a horrible cold; Frodo almost wished he would die. He knew it was mean but so was Gollum. His own family had kicked him out years before; something about thinking he killed his best friend.  
  
But right now, Frodo needed to find Gandalf. The Stoor had been useful in the sense that he knew Gandalf was going to be leaving shortly. Frodo needed to find Gandalf before he left.  
  
"Frodo, my boy! What is the matter?" Gandalf said, suddenly appearing right in front of Frodo.  
  
"I thought you were going to help me with this ring?" Frodo asked, out of breath from running down the halls.  
  
"Help you? In what way?"  
  
"You told me to keep it safe. But how am I to do that when The Shire is the next target of Sauron?"  
  
"You must leave, and leave quickly. Make for Rivendell. There will be two elves waiting for you there by the names of Elladan and Elrohir. They will take you to a safe-haven. There it shall be discussed what shall happen to the ring."  
  
"And will you come with me? I do not know if I can do this alone," Frodo squeaked. He was nervous, he didn't want to leave the Shire just before it's biggest battle ever.  
  
"I am sorry Frodo, I have an errand I must do first. There are many people who need to be present when we decide the fate of the ring. I need to find all of them and make sure they get to Rivendell. But you shall not do this alone. Your friends have been making arrangements to leave their duties and come with you."  
  
"What? Who would volunteer to come on this journey to no where?"  
  
"Samwise, Meriadoc, and Peregrin. They have all their arrangements made." Gandalf said smiling.  
  
"No! They can't leave! Pippin is in charge of Fort Took and it just won't do to have someone else in charge. Meriadoc is supposed to be making sure that the fort at Brandybuck Hall is ready for the attack. And Sam, Sam has to stay and watch over The Gaffer. His health is failing after that wound he took in the last battle."  
  
"Fort Took is in good hands. Merry left the Hall yesterday after seeing that everything was secure. And Sam said there is no way you're leaving without him. It's all in hand. And the elves are coming, Frodo. They will see that the Shire folk are not over run. Go now. You must leave the Shire. Go now. You have little time. I will see you again, before you get to Rivendell. I hope to catch up with you before you reach Bree."  
  
"Thank you Gandalf." And Frodo ran off to his room, preparing a list of what to pack in his head along the way.  
  
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	4. Chapter 3 Mirkwood and Erebor

Chapter 3- Mirkwood and Erebor  
  
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"Your Grace, I bring news from the mouth of Mithrandir himself! He has bid me ask for leave to come and see you. He says his news is urgent and if you are as committed getting rid of the shadow and not departing as you say, that his news will be a relief to you." A young elf maid finished. She was the royal prince's messenger at the moment. His usual messenger was injured in the last battle these elves had a part in. Her Lord sat on a cliff over looking a small river. He had blue eyes and long blonde hair. This was the prince of Mirkwood, Legolas. No, she reminded herself, he was King now. His father had died in the last battle this company of elves had fought in; the former king had fallen at the feet of a Nazgul.  
  
"Mithrandir? He is here? Let him come and see me," Legolas answered, still looking down at the stream below. The maiden left and soon returned with an old man dressed in dirty gray robes and a wizard hat on his head. He looked tired and weather beaten, but his eyes were shining.  
  
"Gandalf! What brings you to search out a man grieving for his father?" Legolas asked questioningly. Legolas sighed, he knew Gandalf was here for good reason, but he still wished privacy. Did no one understand that the King Thranduil had died? The whole of the Woodland Wanderers had lost a part of their lives, but Legolas had also lost a father. And with that loss, he also inherited a great responsibility, Legolas now had to take on the role of King.  
  
"I come to bear an invitation," Gandalf replied. Legolas looked at him, astonished. Could this man think he could prance in here and invite Legolas to some sort of gathering? How could he! This was a time of war, and death. Legolas had duties to fulfill; he had his people to look after. "The Lord Elrond himself has urged a member of the Wandering Elf Kingdom to join him in his haven, for a short time only." Legolas looked up from the ground. If Gandalf was telling the truth, a matter of grave importance was at hand. Elrond would not open his haven to anyone, no matter the cause.  
  
"Why does the Lord open his gates now? Why does he choose this group of elves and not another?" Legolas replied, almost reluctantly. Legolas had never had to deal with making large decisions before now and he had a feeling that this was leading up to him making one.  
  
"A council shall be held," Gandalf continued, more quietly now so that no other might hear. Not even the messenger standing a few feet away could hear their words. "There shall a great decision be made which shall involve all the enemies of Sauron. Elrond wishes all groups be represented; Elves, Men, and Dwarves."  
  
"Dwarves! Why should a great lord such as Elrond trust a Dwarf to any decision! They are useless, war-loving creatures who care for nothing more than their precious jewels and stones," Legolas retorted angrily. This strife with the Dwarves was ages old and was getting worse all the time. The elves and dwarves were too different. The elves loved their woods, trees, earth and the peace with everything around them. The dwarves cut the wood and mined the earth. They dug deeper all the time, hoping eventually to reach a place far from Sauron's reach. But it was impossible; nowhere was wholly safe from the Dark Lord.  
  
"Everyone will be represented in this matter. And the Lord Elrond has requested that you, Legolas, be present at this council."  
  
"Me, I cannot leave my father's people! They need a leader at the moment and I am the only one left to guide!"  
  
"The fate of this kingdom will be placed in good hands, no doubt, while you are away. See to it that you reach the Valley of Imladris before the frosts sets. If your people are indeed as committed to keeping the enemy at bay, the news at this council will bring you much. I council you to not miss this." The old man finished and leaned onto his staff for support. He looked tire and worn. But the elf sitting there could see that this was a very important matter to him.  
  
"I will come. But, give me a hint, a clue per se, at what this meeting is about. I don't wish to leave my people for a petty problem," Legolas attempted the prod at Gandalf's thoughts, though he doubted it would be to much avail.  
  
"The matter is the most dire of the moment. It could mean life or death if the enemy heard news of it. Lord Elrond does not open his gates to hold councils for 'petty' problems. Come, and all your questions should be answered."  
  
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"An old man is riding to our gates, Gloin. We know not who he is, yet there is rumor that Gandalf is about. It may be him; the rider is clad in gray," the guard finished his report on the day. Gloin seemed interested in this man and prompted him to say more, but he knew no more. The rider rode swiftly and none had yet a good glimpse of him.  
  
"If it be Gandalf, show him to me at once when he arrives. His news must be great if he rides in such haste." Gloin said walking away as he spoke, to take some much needed rest.  
  
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"My dear old friend, Gandalf! What brings you to Erebor? Your errand must be great, unless you journeyed out here just for a short chat?" Gloin called to the wizard approaching his chair.  
  
"My errand is great. I have come to summon you to a council of the enemies of Sauron. The Elven Lord, Elrond, shall harbor all who attend for a time," Gandalf was impatient. He had many more people to pay a visit to before his journeys were up; and he was already growing weary.  
  
"Elf? Ha! I do not need the protection of an elf. They cannot protect themselves, much less others." Gloin groaned. He didn't need this wizard telling him what to do; problems within his own people were taking his attention at the moment, not some council.  
  
"This council will be necessary if we plan to keep the power of Sauron at bay. The Lord Elrond himself has invited you to attend. It is not because he himself wishes to renew a friendship, but to unite against the Dark Lord. No one can hold forever against the power of Mordor alone. You must unite. Take my council and go to the Valley of Imladris, do not take more than needed. The number of travelers in your group must be small, or some will be turned away."  
  
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	5. Chapter 4 Decisions and Fortresses

Chapter 4- Decisions and Fortresses  
  
  
  
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Footsteps. They were the only noise Frodo could hear. And they belonged to him. He was walking down a long hallway in his home and fortress, Bag End. He had a heavy pack on his back, which made his steps slower than usual. He wished he could have found a way to pack lighter, but he was sure he'd need everything he'd brought, and most of it was food.  
  
He stopped, hearing another pair of footsteps, heading his way. He paused, all his senses on alert.  
  
"Mr. Frodo? Is that you Mr. Frodo? Why are you lurking in shadows?" a hobbit a bit younger than Frodo said starring right at him. Frodo then realized he'd backed into a corner while listen to his friend Sam's footsteps.  
  
"Sorry Sam. I didn't mean to. I guess I've just bit a bit afraid, with this ring business and all," Frodo realized he really was a tinge afraid. He had heard plenty of stories about the servants of the Dark Lord, and he had a feeling he really didn't want to meet anymore than he already had. And he had only ever met an orcs, and that was always in battle.  
  
"It's alright Mister Frodo, I meant no offence. I was just asking if you don't mind me doin' so?" Sam looked a bit worried for his long time friend, he was a bit paler than usual and he looked as if he were ready to sprint away at a single noise he didn't recognize.  
  
"Hullo Sam, Frodo," Pip chimed in as he and Merry walked down the stairs. They too had packs upon their backs and Frodo noticed Sam did too. "I am assuming we're all ready to get goin'? I don't want to waste a bit of time, we don't want to keep our hosts in Rivendell awaiting, do we now?"  
  
"I think we need to start speaking a bit more softly of our business. In the Bag End Fortress, I don't believe we have needed to worry. But soon we won't be in Bag End and we'll have to watch our backs. If we keep quiet about our business, we'll be less likely to leak information to the wrong people," Merry said quickly and quietly, but with an air of importance.  
  
"You're right Merry," Frodo elaborated. "Our journey needs to be kept secret. We cannot jeopardize our lives and the, err, message. That's what we'll refer to it for this point on, the message. And I'm Mister Underhill. Take up new name, all of you, so that our identities will not give away whom we are. We do not know how much the enemy knows our errand."  
  
"Alright, But we best get going before the day grows any later than it already has. We'll tell you our names as soon as we've thought of them. And do so discreetly," Merry continued lecturing them about secrecy all the way through Bag End, but finally they were out in the air, and he stopped.  
  
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The sight that greeted the hobbits hadn't been a nice one. They found the outside of the fortress to be barren and smelled like the upcoming battle. They moved on and away as fast as they could manage, and only Frodo looked back for a last glance at his home.  
  
The Shire was no sight for sore eyes. Its beauty had been lost years ago when a band of orcs had attacked. Nearly every hobbit in the area had died. Back then; there had been no fortresses, no army, and no military leaders. In some ways, Frodo thought, life would be better if it was still like that. No military personal telling commoners inside the walls what they should do, no constant worries of being thrown out of the fortress, no people being forced to pay taxes to support the defense of the fortress, no hobbits being sent to fight unwillingly.  
  
But, without the fortresses, there would be no hobbits to fight. There were three great forts made, The Fortress at Bag End, The Fort at Brandybuck Hall and Fort Took, built where the old took had lived. These three forts were built under ground, expertly designed after observing the enemies forts. The enemy's forts were altered, so as to be fit to put under ground, and built with the strongest stuff available. Then, a great wall was constructed. It connected the three forts and made it impossible for any enemy troop to reach the inlaying lands without a struggle.  
  
Within these walls, hobbits lived. They were able to farm and such as they wished, lived as they wished, but the needed to pay taxes and obey laws set by the Military leaders (One from each fort: a Baggins, a Brandybuck, and a Took.). And if need be, fight for their leaders. But, overall, the hobbits within the walls lived a peaceful life. The shire was not attacked all to often, mostly do to the strong forts and the fact that hobbits were not considered a threat. So, the hobbits inside had created a nice little village where flowers grew, children played, and happiness was present. But it was always disrupted when battles were a threat.  
  
Hobbits would then be recruited to fight. Every man, old enough who could grasp a weapon, would have to fight.  
  
And without Gollum, there would be no fortresses. He remembered the story well, Bilbo had told it to him numerous times and he'd even heard the tale first hand a few times from the slimy creature itself. Gollum had come to the Shire, seeking shelter and employment, as a spy. He said that he would provide information of strongholds of the enemy to the hobbits, and help them recreate them to their needs. He promised them the best spy they would ever have. Yet, no family trusted him. Smeagol was a sour fellow, with grayish skin and large eyes. Hobbits looked on him, doubting he could truly be a Stoor. But one family had taken him in, mostly out of pity.  
  
Baggins was the name of that family and they didn't trust their new spy further than they could kick him. But Gollum held to his word and he brought to them drawings of the enemy's fortresses and towers and soon a grand fortress was in the making. It was built into the hill where Bag End had stood, before Sauron's troops destroyed it, therefore it was named the Fortress at Bag End.  
  
While Bag End was being completed, Smeagol spied for the Baggins and was coming up with all sorts of information none of the other scouts could get their hands on. And, all of it was correct. So, little by little, Smeagol earned the trust of the Baggins. And in a few years time, Smeagol had been asked to help construct two more fortresses, one for the Tooks and one for the Brandybucks. Then Gollum advised them to build a wall between them to connect them. Thus, the fortresses had been built.  
  
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"I'm glad we've gotten out of the Shire without any problems, Mister Frodo," Sam commented as the four companions walked beyond the Shire's borders.  
  
"What do you mean Sam?" Frodo looked quickly over to his friend. Why did he say something like that? Had Sam heard something about problems they might have? Sam was working part time as a spy for Frodo, now that he'd become the General of Bag End. No, Frodo had to remind himself, he wasn't a general. He was a lonely traveler that probably wouldn't make it to Bree alive, much less Rivendell or beyond. But, at least he had company.  
  
"I meant nothing by it, Mister Frodo. I was just thinking, if we could get beyond the borders, then we'd be more likely to see nothing of the battle comin' up," Sam frowned as he spoke. He didn't want to see anything of the battle, but he wished he were still back in the Shire. His father, The Gaffer, was ill. He'd taken a wound in the last battle the hobbits of Bag End fought in. And Sam was worried. He didn't know how he would fair without Sam to take care of him. 'Well, if old Gollum can survive all them years with such a foul cold, I suppose my Gaffer can survive a bit without me,' he told himself, but he wasn't sure he believed it.  
  
"Well, there's no use in wonderin' what we would have seen. We're not going to be there. Let's get a move on. We've been on the road for but two days and certain people are already beginnin' to stop a bit too often," Merry always seemed to have some scolding for them in his mind. He continued to lecture on something someone had managed to foul up; Frodo blocked him out.  
  
Why did he continue on this? There was no way they'd make it to Rivendell. They'd be caught in the net of enemies closing in from all sides of the Shire right now. They'd all be killed. Frodo couldn't let everyone get killed. It was no use for everyone to be killed, only the one holding what the enemy wanted, him. He would not let them end their lives following him. He had to leave them, he had to get away. Before something bad happened, Frodo was leaving.  
  
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	6. Chapter 5 A Council Heeded, A Council Fo...

Chapter 5- A Council Heeded, A Council Forgotten.  
  
  
  
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"Lord Boromir! Do you hear me not?" Strider seemed frustrated with Boromir. He wasn't listening to anything he was saying.  
  
"We have not enough men! If we go, we shall miss the Lords Elladan and Elrohir in Rivendell. Mithrandir himself told us to meet them there. We have to choose, and I council you we should go to Rivendell," Boromir too was frustrated. They had received a message from Mithrandir that day, and he advised them to head to Rivendell, some sort of council. But it intrigued Boromir that the Lord Elrond would open his home to anyone. Boromir's curiosity got the best of him and he no longer had any desire to help the half-lings. Of what importance were they?  
  
"We have to help the half-lings! They shall not stand without the aid of outside troops, and we are so close. The Shire is not a day away; we can still help and reach the Lords. What would your brother do?"  
  
"My brother? Why do you bring him into this?" Boromir was almost to tired to care. He needed sleep, and all Strider would allow him to do was argue, it seemed.  
  
"Because your brother has sent you more council, and you have not even thought of heeding it!" Strider had been waiting an entire day for him to open the letter the messenger had handed him.  
  
"What are you talking about? He has sent no rider."  
  
"No, not a rider. There is a letter sitting on that table with your name on it, the rider delivered it, you do not remember?" Strider knew he didn't remember; he'd set it down almost as soon as it'd reached his hands.  
  
"The letter?" Boromir moved towards the table, picking the letter up, he began to read:  
  
Dear Boromir,  
  
I have sent this rider with the least of my message. I only hope this letter does not fall into the wrong hands. I do not know how much I trust that rider, though I really don't trust much of anyone anymore.  
  
Everything the rider shall tell you, is of great importance. But I have heard you shall be invited to attend a council with the Lord Elrond. You shall be invited to take one guest, if you understand what, and who, I'm implying. This is a council to discuss something called Isildur's bane, I know not what this is, yet it is of grave importance to Elrond and Mithrandir.  
  
I know it would seem wise to abandon the half-lings and attend, but I have other news that shall make that decision harder for you. Isildur's bane is in the possession of a half-ling. The half-ling who carries it is a general and leads a small group of his people. I know no more of his identity, but I can assure you he does not wish his people destroyed.  
  
I have a feeling that helping the half-lings will help you in the long run, yet that is not mine to decide. Make your decision, and make it wisely. I do not know the whole circumstances, and you shall be in a better position to decide than I am, so I give you no more council. Listen with your heart and ears, and to certain people around you.  
  
Your brother, Faramir  
  
"So, a half-ling carries what the world is now revolving round. How does he know this, being in Gondor?"  
  
"There are many ways, the enemy may know more than we expect. If so, they may have leaked some of the information to our spies," Strider now had his mind made up; he was going to help the half-lings. And now he was sure that he would need Boromir's men to help. How else could Faramir know what was going on here without the enemy knowing? If the enemy knew, the entire of the Dark Lord's army would attempt to assail the land of half-lings. The half-lings would need all the help they can get.  
  
"Ah, 'tis against what I would do, but I shall follow my king, even if it is against what I would council," Boromir turned to Strider, no longer willing to battle it out for this decision. Against both his brother's and his superior's council, he had no defense.  
  
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"'Get packing,' easy for him to say. Why are we even going to help these pathetic, half-grown men? We will gain nothing, for they have nothing to give." grumbles, like these, were heard though out the camp. The soldiers, who fought for their Lord Boromir, had just been informed they were moving out.  
  
"You're leaving? To defend the half-lings?" the entire camp looked over at the man who had spoken. No one had really spoke to him, after he'd come riding into their camp the night earlier yelling like he was being tortured by the Dark Lord. This errand rider was nothing.  
  
"Yeah, well. I don't see what so great about it. And what do you care? You'll be leavin' shortly. You don't need to see any action." one of the soldiers spoke, turning back to packing his few belongings.  
  
"That's what you think," the rider replied. He wasn't going to give up the chance of a lifetime. He could be a hero, winning the battle for his side. It's what he'd always wanted to do.  
  
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A hero, it was ringing in his mind, as he approached the Lord's tent once more. It was what he'd really joined up to do, that was why he was an errand rider. And now, he was in the right place, in the right time, and he knew what he was going to do. Join Boromir's troops that were going to fight.  
  
"My Lord," he said, hope in his voice and in his step. He noticed the ranger was present now, as he always seemed to be.  
  
"Oh good. You haven't left yet. I need someone to take a message."  
  
"I mean not to interrupt, My Lord, but I wish to join your troops going to battle," the rider spoke it quickly, before Boromir could rope him into riding off. He needed to fight, he could change the way the battle turned, he just knew it.  
  
Boromir turned to the Ranger and spoke a few private words to him, of which the rider heard none.  
  
"Very well, have you ever faced the enemy before?" Boromir said, turning back to the rider.  
  
"Oh, yes. As you would never believe it." The rider answered, a smile crossing his lips.  
  
"Then, I will enlist you right away. We will need every man we can get to fight with these half-lings. The Dark Lord is intent on destroying them. Strider, could you take care of anything I've forgotten when enlisting someone? I am in need of rest." Boromir finished and walked away once Strider nodded, agreeing with Boromir. The Lord needed sleep; even the soldiers were feeling bad for him. Boromir hadn't slept for more than eight hours in the last few days; he was literally exhausted.  
  
Strider turned to the rider, sizing him up. He was shorter than Strider by almost six inches. But he seemed strong enough, and he had a fire in his eyes. He looked as if he would be an asset to heir side, if he knew how to wield a weapon. Yet his last comment puzzled Strider, he looked hardly old enough to have been an errand rider and probably wasn't old enough to enlist by the usual rules. But yet he said he had faced the enemy before. Had his home perhaps been attacked when he was younger and he'd fought his way out? He jumped out of his thoughts, realizing he'd spent too long summing this man up.  
  
"Well, what's your name boy?" Strider said. He pulled a piece of paper off of the table to write it down. As he scavenged for a pen and ink, he heard the rider reply 'Grimly son of Grima.'  
  
"Grima? Grima of Rohan, the adviser to the king? I knew not that he had a son. And if you are from Rohan, why do you help the people of Gondor?" Strider said wonderingly. He didn't even know Grima was married. Well, it had been a great while since Strider had visited that country.  
  
"Yes, that Grima. And I help the people of Gondor because Rohan said I was too young to help in ought. So, I asked leave to go to Gondor, years ago, where I was made an errand rider."  
  
"I see, I think that's all. Go and ready for battle. I assume you have a weapon in your possession? Almost everyone does, even the women." Strider broke off, seeing Grimly nod his head at his comment and then slip out of the tent. Strider too decided to get rest; he would need it for the upcoming battle.  
  
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	7. Chapter 6 The Passing of the Troops

Chapter 6- The Passing of the Troops  
  
  
  
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"Merry! Can't we stop yet? It so dark I can hardly see my own feet walking!" Pippin cried as he stubbed his toe for the fourth time that evening. All the hobbits were exhausted and wanted to stop, but Merry was continuing to push them on. His claim was, they should be nearing the troops now that were marching into the Shire and they should pass by them at night, under the cover of darkness.  
  
"This is ridiculous! Merry, we need to stop. We haven't even eaten dinner. Soon we'll all be dropping dead in the woods if you make us continue on. I'm stopping, whether you like it or not," Frodo seemed satisfied with himself at telling Merry off, but Merry only shrugged and started to walk again; he'd been doing this all night. But this time, the rest of the hobbits were too tired to follow. Sam immediately collapsed on a nearby log, and Frodo and Pippin eagerly joined him.  
  
"What are you doing!? You can't just sleep in the middle of an open area!" Merry was back soon, and seeing them all ready to fall asleep, he began to chastise them for their stupidity. "If you must stop, which I still believe is folly, then you must at least have cover. There's a nice little tree up here, a bit nearer to the road, but hopefully no matter. There's a nice little cozy place under its roots where the four of us could easily fit. We'll be covered and hopefully out of danger. Though, I doubt anyplace is safe at all until we pass by the enemy troops."  
  
"We know Merry. You don't have to scold us! But there's no way Mister Frodo is goin' to get by those troops without stumbling and waking the guard; and neither are you or Mister Pippin. Not without some sleep. We'd be caught if we tried!"  
  
"All the same, I'd rather not stay the night until we've passed them. I'll take first watch, Sam you'll be next. We need to move out as soon as possible in the morning. If we don't, we're likely to meet those troops on our way out," Merry looked like he was still somewhat awake when the company reached the tree. It was a nice little spot to stop, but Frodo wished they'd found it a few hours ago. But he didn't have much time to think, for he soon fell fast asleep.  
  
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Frodo stirred as he heard speaking. He could sense sunlight on his face and all felt peaceful, except the voices. He could hear them in the background, not yet able to understand their meaning, but he gathered form their tone, it wasn't one of his friends. He slowly opened his eyes to see nothing, except trees, grasses, dirt, and three sleeping hobbits.  
  
"Great, someone fell asleep on watch. I must assume that is why I never took watch last night," Frodo sighed. He could still hear the voices, they sounded like they were coming nearer. He strained his ears to hear what they said and experienced quite a little shock.  
  
"Move it, you weaklings! We're headin' to battle! Get a move on! We don't want to have to slow down for one stupid orc! Move it! We've got some hobbits to kill!" Frodo's heart sank, realizing Merry was right, they should have continued last night and passed these orcs. Frodo barely peeped his head over the tree roots to have a look.  
  
Merry had been right about this being closer to the road, but what he didn't know is it was only about fifteen feet form the road. They had been walking at least a hundred feet away, lest they come across the enemy troops marching on the road. The company of orcs passing was of an enormous size. Frodo couldn't see the end of the company either way down the road. He saw in front of him, barely twenty feet away, an orc general, whipping his troops on. Frodo let himself slide back behind the tree, out of view.  
  
"Mister Frodo?" Sam said quietly. The other hobbits had risen too, and were crouched next to Frodo, all trying to push themselves nearer to the tree, further out of sight. Frodo could see Merry, his face gone almost green, worriedly looking round for a safer place. Pippin, had his head in his hands, trying hard not to cry out. They were only four little hobbits, what could they do? Sam was up, slightly looking out on the troops.  
  
"I think there's something coming, Mister Frodo. I've never sent he likes of it before," Sam turned towards Frodo, a look of terror on his face. "It's dressed in all black." Frodo couldn't help but to slightly peer over, it was a rider, clad completely in black robes. It rode a black horse, which sped on the road, but suddenly came to a dead stop. The rider turned it head towards Frodo and Frodo suddenly realized he still had his head in view of the road. He quickly ducked down.  
  
Sam looked at him, Frodo had gone white. Sam heard in the distance a rider dismounting, footsteps. He looked at Merry and Pippin, both huddling together. Sam knew his own face was being drained of color as he heard the footsteps advance towards them.  
  
Frodo looked up, a hole between the roots they had used as a roof, let him see. He saw a wisp of a black robe pass over it before he heard the noise of a person bending down, he suspected the rider was examining something; them and their hiding place. Suddenly, he heard sniffing, like that of an animal tracking prey.  
  
Frodo felt suddenly sick and wished to vanish from this monster's sight. He quietly remembered his ring. He realized it was in his hand, he didn't know how it got there. He fingered it, longing to put it on. He heard the creature moving slightly closer. He noticed Sam and the others were too absorbed in their own fears to notice him. He felt the longing to put the ring on again. He could slip away, leave his friends as he'd been planning to for the last few days. But suddenly he realized, leaving his friends wouldn't help. They'd still be stuck with this rider hovering over them. But the urge to at least disappear was still there.  
  
"Sir! A scout reported that a group of hobbits left the Shire barely a day or so ago. They were seen passing over the border," the orc general's voice cut through Frodo's thoughts suddenly. The rider appeared distracted too, and Frodo regained his senses. The orc leader continued with other information about the doings of the hobbits and Frodo realized that the rider was moving away, listening to the general. But Frodo could almost feel him looking back towards them.  
  
Silently, the hobbits waited for the company to pass. They were never noticed again. But the fear of that rider drove them all to silence. None of them knew what it was but, none ever wished to be anywhere near it again. Luckily, it did not return to inspect them more.  
  
This puzzled Sam. The rider seemed so intent on searching, but gave up as soon as something addressed it. He hoped it no longer cared about what lay under this tree, but he knew he was wrong. He had a feeling in his heart, they'd see that vile thing again. But what more began to bother his mind, as the memory of the rider faded, was that he had just seen the troops that would attack, and possibly kill, his friends. If, he thought, that was just a small portion of what would be set against the hobbits, he didn't wish to imagine what would happen to the Shire.  
  
Frodo tried to keep his thoughts away from the rider, but it seemed near impossible. He soon though, to his relief, began to think of other things. Mostly, of leaving. He had now no indecision about how soon he needed to get away from his friends. He cared for them all, and he had a feeling, that the rider had almost sensed him, not the others, but him and his ring. If he hadn't been here, they never would have been found.  
  
A day or so ago, he'd made up his mind to leave, but he had put it of, for another day with the comfort of his friends. He wanted someone to talk to, to take council with, to be there for support. But he couldn't allow them to get caught and killed with him. For Frodo was now certain that was his fate, death, and by the hand of the vile rider. But he dreaded his friends accompanying him on that journey, so if he cared for them, he knew he must leave them. And as soon as may be, for he guessed the rider would return.  
  
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Hours later, the hobbits stirred from their resting place. The enemy's troops had moved on now, and darkness was falling. The company had passed some hours ago, yet out of fear, the hobbits had not come forth till now. They dreaded spies lurking behind to check for followers. They could hear, though distantly, the sound of a battle. They knew they'd made it to the edges of the Shire and found small villages there, which they would destroy utterly. They wept quietly for all those that didn't have a chance.  
  
The hobbits hadn't enough will to go far that evening. They were sill shaken with the fear of the rider, but that was also what drove them to move. They all shared the same feelings towards it returning. They moved further from the road and on ward for about an hour. By that time, even Merry wished to find a place to rest. Quickly, Frodo claimed the first watch, he'd never taken his the night before.  
  
'All asleep, and now's my chance' Frodo thought quietly. He made for his pack. He quickly checked to make sure he had everything he needed. Quietly, he thought of the ring. He wished to just toss it into the bushes and run from it, but he knew he couldn't. And, he thought, he didn't really want to, something in him was holding him back.  
  
He quietly stood up, taking a last look at his friends. They were sleeping, Sam snoring slightly. He was almost ready to set his pack back down and join them in their rest, but he didn't. He new he had to get away. He could almost feel that that rider was already looking for him again. It made him nervous.  
  
"Good- bye my friends," Frodo said quietly to them, as he turned away. As soon as he was a bit further off, he felt much better. He knew he had a lot of ground to cover before his friends woke. If he didn't get far enough, he knew they find him. They'd look for him in the morning.  
  
Suddenly, he regretted not leaving them some sort of clue that he'd left of his own free will. They might wake and think him kidnapped or worse, dead. But, the might as well think that, he thought, it is my fate.  
  
He continued walking, stumbling every once in awhile. The moon was rising in the distance, he could see a bit better now. He was just stumbling down a small hill, when, to his right he heard a horrible high voice, somewhat like a bird call, yet he knew no bird could make that noise. His head snapped in the direction, looking for the source. He saw, not far to his right, a hooded rider.  
  
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End file.
